


Domesticity

by banrionsi



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Farming really? A man of your talents?, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), domestic life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banrionsi/pseuds/banrionsi
Summary: Post Order 66 you and Rex escape to Saleucami to start a new life.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Domesticity

Sometimes you wish Rex wasn’t such a soldier.

“C’mon baby, please” you whine and reach for him again, fingertips just barely glancing off the bare curve of his shoulder. “Even just half an hour more, ten minutes, five even?”

He just huffs at you, twinkle in his eye, and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Sooner we get everything we need to do today done, the sooner we get back in bed”.

You take the opportunity to quickly wind your arms around his neck and keep his warm body pressed to yours.  
“The banthas will still be there in thirty minutes Rex”.

But he’s already gently pulling away from you and shrugging on his tunic, working his feet into worn boots and tying the laces taut. He pauses as he tugs open your bedroom door to look at you and smile softly.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise. You’ll have me to yourself all evening”.

That cracks a small grin out of you finally, and you raise your voice so he can hear you as he moves throughout your little cottage. “You better!”

And then he is gone, and the birds start to sing sweetly from their nest outside your window. Dragging yourself out of bed, you hum to the dawn chorus and throw on cotton leggings and whichever shirt is closest within reach. To your silent satisfaction it is a shirt of Rex’s, one whose sleeves tumble far past your wrists and the hem swishes mid thigh. You hold it to your nose and inhale deeply. It smells like the lavender and soap you use to do the laundry but, underneath that is a scent that is undeniably Rex. You are glad to wear it today, feel a strange urge to keep him close to you whichever way you can.

Sweeping into the main area of your humble abode, your first prerogative is to light the fire and banish the chill from the air. The tinder catches quick and soon a steady blaze is roaring. You eye the bin next to it as you warm your hands and make a mental note to bring in more wood from out back later.

The sourdough is on the counter where you left it last night and ready to be separated into halves and baked in the oven. Loaf on its way, you prep a new batch of jam. The end of the the harvest season is ripe for berry picking, and you, Suu, and the kids gathered basketsful yesterday. Although really, Shaeeah and Jek did most of the hard work. The thought of the sweet children brings a soft smile to your face as you briefly rinse the berries. They are good kids, so inquisite and clever and you admire how Cut and Suu have raised them. Having such innocent souls around is good for you and Rex too, reminds you that not everything in the universe is bad (although it may sometimes feel like it).

Once you are sure the berries are clean you drain off the water and then carefully pour them into the pot waiting in the stovetop. A generous helping of sugar traded from the next town over, and a cup of water and then you cover them over and leave the berries to boil down. 

Saleucami is a strange planet, nothing like the pristine and ordered nature of Corsuscant. It is untamed and mostly undiscovered, populated by farming villages and sparse ports that allow for imported luxuries. It has been good to you and Rex though. The dirt is rich and gives you both a generous crop yield to eat and trade and the weather is mild, similar to the seasons galaxies away on Earth. The people have a quiet solidarity, and no one questions your and Rex’s presence or disputes his relation to Cut. The women in the nearby town invite you to their festivals and drink the mead you bring. Cuts friends are more than happy for Rex to accompany them on hunts (more like drinking moonshine around a campfire, you snort). Your life here is good. You and Rex only wish that his brothers could be here too.

You dismiss that wistful thought as soon as it sneaks into existence, not in the mood to deal with the stinging grief it brings.  
You busy yourself with sweeping the floors, wiping down the counters, and then finally heating big buckets of water over the fire to fill your washing barrel with. Today you decide you’ll spice things up and use a different scent for the laundry and you make yourself giggle to think that this is your version of excitement nowadays. Forget malevolent plots and blaster fire, today you’ll use dried saleucamen pine leaves for your washing! There is beauty in banality though, and you feel no shame in admitting it. You’d take this version of an exciting life over the alternative anyday.

From your position just off of the back porch, you can see Rex working with the banthas. Filling their troughs with water from the well you share with the Lawquanes, brushing their hides, and squeezing their milk into transperi bottles. You keep an eye on him as you the stir the laundry in the big barrel. These days after everything that’s happened, you like to know where he is and that you could get to him if needed. He does the same, curls his arms securely around you at night and lies between you and the door. Blaster on the nightstand right next to him and vibroblade beneath his pillow. 

He spots you watching him as he begins to stack the bottled bantha milk into wooden crates. He offers you a wink before getting back to the task at hand and you laugh out loud before adding more soap to your barrel. 

Once the clothes are all rinsed and hung up to dry, you plop the emptied barrel in the corner of the porch and head inside to dry off your hands and take the sourdough loaf out of the oven. It has risen perfectly, a uniform crust on top and you are pleased with your work. You leave it to cool on the countertop and turn your attention to the jam simmering on the stove. Dipping in a spoon to test it, you hum lightly and decide to add in a small amount of spices from your stash in the cupboard. The berries you’re making the jam from are pretty things and you love how they decorate the land this time of year. Pea sized with a vibrant fuchsia flesh, inky black on the inside. They are tart and make Rex’s face scrunch up everytime one bursts on his tongue. He doesn’t mind the sharpness so much when he tastes them off your tongue though, he always tells you.  
As if on cue, he treads in through the back door and wraps his hands around your waist, buries his cold nose in your neck. Letting out a shriek, you tap his forearms.

“Rex! Wash your hands! Maker man, I do not want to have more clothes to be washed!”

He chuckles and lays a soft kiss behind your ear, doesn’t miss how your breath hitches at the action. Quick as a whip your man is, you ruminate ruefully.

“I’ll do the washing next time and”, He slides his hand up under the hem to caress your bare hip, “this is my shirt anyway”.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and sniffs, eyeing the pot of jam appreciatively. “Smells good”.

You turn your head to the side to peck his cheek and murmur a soft thanks in return.  
Stirring the pot one final time, you turn off the heat below it and twist in Rex’s embrace.

“You hungry?”  
“Starved”

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, you manoeuvre out and underneath Rex’s arms and carry the pot to rest on the island behind you. You place it next to the sourdough brea, which is still hot from being buried in wrappings. The tap squeaks as Rex hurriedly washes his hands, scrubs the dirt out from underneath his nails. You slice the loaf with steady hands and slather thick lashings of hot jam over the bread. Loading the snacks onto two clay plates, you bring them over to the table and set them down gently. You hear the crackle of the fire being stoked and catch the warm glow cradling the room flicker. 

You sit down and wave Rex over from the fire to eat. You do so in silence, both enjoying your first meal of the day and the sweetness of the jam. Rex raises a curious eyebrow at you as he chews. 

“Cloves?”

You nod your acknowledgement while you swallow the mouthful occupying your attention. 

“Yeah I traded a few credits for a bag when Suu and I went to the port stalls last month”.

As you eat, Rex moves his spare hand to cover yours and rub his thumb over your knuckles. The quiet intimacy of the gesture isn’t lost on you and it makes something swell in your chest. The kind of joy that hurts in its intensity, the bite of desperation that rides on its curves that comes from knowing how easy it would be to lose this. You and Rex would be fools to take such simple delights for granted these days. No, every moment spent together is a moment cherished.


End file.
